Bittersweet Between My Teeth
by My Little Big Blue Box
Summary: You mentally slap yourself every time you spot yourself staring because you really shouldn't given that her father – your godfather – is very likely nearby and your girlfriend is definitely nearby and you don't need to have that argument again. ONESHOT.


_We lie beneath the stars at night__  
__Our hands gripping each other tight__  
__You keep my secrets hope to die__  
__Promises, swear them to the sky_

_The bittersweet between my teeth__  
__Trying to find the in-betweens__  
__Fall back in love eventually_

**Bittersweet Between My Teeth**

You don't know when you started to notice that she always stands cross-legged but you think it's about the time you started to think her legs looked like the finest porcelain – flaw free.

But you mentally slap yourself every time you spot yourself staring because you really shouldn't given that her father – your godfather – is very likely nearby and your girlfriend is definitely nearby and you don't need to have that argument again because it takes enough energy convincing yourself you're still in love with her, never mind convincing her too.

Because you _think_ you are still in love with Victoire, and you _are_ convinced when its just the two of you, but then you see Lily in all her fiery glory and you still love Vic but you don't think you've been _in love _since about six months before you came back from France and Lily appeared out of nowhere on your doorstep.

She's doing that thing again where she bites her cheek out of boredom while Roxanne shows her her latest magazine and you have to shift and concentrate and hope your hair doesn't turn the same ravishing colour as hers because the image of her biting _you_ in all the right places has just run through your mind and you should feel bad about it; you _should_.

And this _should_ all feel wrong but it doesn't because when she was thirteen, you left to travel the world with Victoire and the rare times you popped home to your Gran or Harry and Ginny and the Weasleys, she happened to be at school and you can't quite work out if that was due to subconscious effort or not but when you did see her again, those six months ago, and she collapsed in your arms, sopping wet with rain and tears, it was like she was a different person.

Which is bullshit, because she might have aged five years and not be a school girl anymore, but she was still the weird and wonderful, snarky and quick-witted red head, that you had that immense bond and connection with, that you remember.

She's still just as enthralling and cute as you remember, too. Except she's not cute anymore – although she is but she's actually more beautiful and gorgeous and enticing than that even though she tries to argue with you when you try to tell her.

Which you did once; Three months ago - it was Christmas and you'd snuck out of the Burrow for a smoke to find she'd done the same and there was snow in her hair and she had bright pink lips and a green dress on and it all clashed terribly, which is why you think your hair turned purple and orange at once. She caught you staring and it all came out in a rush but you still said it and it felt brilliant, though your cheek burned for a week from her kissing it.

But you know some people will see it as a bad thing; which is why you haven't allowed yourself to be alone in the same room as her since because you don't trust that you'll keep your hands to yourself _and_ be able to keep the peace with everyone else because things like this always hurt someone whether its betrayal or disappointment or a fracture of trust because everyone has to be involved and have an opinion and just this once you wish they didn't.

When it's not hers but Vic's arms that drape over your shoulders you almost jump out of your skin and across the table, but only almost.

"You okay? You're very quiet..." She says.

"I'm fine," And because it's felt just a tad warmer since Lily walked in, you add, "I'm gonna go get some air. It's stuffy in here."

"Teddy," She chuckles but the whine is there, "It's the middle of March, you'll freeze."

"It's March, not December, babe. I'll be fine somehow."

"You're not coming down with something, are you?" And when she checks your head for a fever, you hate yourself a little bit more, but you still shake your head and pry her wrist away, anyway, "You don't feel too hot."

"That's because I'm fine, just one too many people in one room that's all."

She chuckles again.

"Hey Vic! Come and look at this; pictures of Gran and Granddad as teenagers! It's so cute!" Dominique shouts across the room and its makes everyone look, including _her _and she looks right at you and slowly edges herself from the crowd and to the door like she's a seer.

Victoire is back onto you after shushing her sister but she's backing away, "As long as you promise this isn't another fag break. You said you'd cut back, remember?" You hope she doesn't see your hand clench around the box in your pocket.

"I'll see you in a few," No promises, no promises and you don't mean to make it awkward but kissing her on the cheek suddenly feels foreign.

You dismiss it quickly enough however; as the bright red hair is caught in the blustering wind and you couldn't be outside quicker.

Her dress, a floral float-y number that covers enough to be respectful of her elders but not of her own warmth, as she rubs at the goose-bumps on her arms. Your jacket is on her shoulders before you even think about it.

"Thanks," She smiles.

"No problem," And because you feel the need for conversation, you add, "Busy day, huh?"

"Oh, this is nothing compared to Uncle Percy's birthday last week."

"Percy agreed to have a birthday party? Didn't think he was the type."

"He's not but Gran is," She pauses, "Where were you by the way?"

You frown but you know exactly where you were; finishing the article that wasn't needed for another week but you did anyway because it was an excuse to not go and an opportunity to stop something like this.

Jeez, self preservation is a bitch.

Because avoiding her and trying to stop yourself thinking about her at every chance is self preservation at its finest because if you don't do those things, you might not get this twist in your gut that is more painful than you like to let on and only ever happens at the thought of her without him.

"When?" You feign ignorance instead no matter how useless.

"At the party..." She rolls her eyes and the corner of her lips quirks up, "You weren't there, but Vic was. How come you didn't go?"

"Oh, I had to work," You shrug.

"On a Sunday?" Her brow lifts under her fringe.

"Work when you want, when you can work from home," And you know you're scurrying around the elephant in the conversation but you just don't want to have to explain everything and risk ruining the rest.

"Working instead of a party? My, my, Teddy, you have changed," She'd accused him of becoming a 'house-husband' the few days she stayed with them in France but it was all in jest, "That, or you're avoiding me."

Ah, the elephant. She never had been stupid.

"I haven't been avoiding you! That's daft and you know it," She doesn't.

"I don't actually..."

She doesn't say anything else, instead she starts walking, out into the fields for the big tree you all climbed at least once as a child. When you don't follow, she looks back, "Are you coming or what?"

You nod and jog to catch up, a fleeting look at the Burrow to see nobody paying them attention. You're both quiet as you walk and you notice she's holding out her hands together in front of her, wrangling them between the other in a silent effort and you wonder what that effort is for.

"So, are you going tell me why you've been avoiding me?"

"No," You blurt out quicker than you'd like and know you've given yourself away.

"So I was right."

"No, I-"

"I'm not blind, Ted."

You can't quite think of what to say in response so you remain quiet as you approach the tree and watch in surprise as she immediately clambers up its trunk. For a while all you see are her legs dangling but then she speaks, "Well, am I gonna sit up here on my own or what?"

You're up there in a second, not nearly as lithe and agile as you used to be, but you're up there soon enough, knees bumping and hands brushing and it's probably the best part of your day.

"So?" She urges, eyes shining in mystery.

"So?"

She laughs, "Just tell me, Teddy! If you're still being awkward about that kiss... you don't have to worry, no matter how much it pains me, I'm not gonna say anything to anyone, not if you don't want me to," But she looks like it pains her a little bit and it pains you too as you remember how good, if not unexpected, it had been when she'd pressed her lips to yours late one night, before she'd left France for home again, and you'd – after much persuading of Victoire – followed her.

You don't reply but you look at her with a smile for a moment and when she finally looks back at you, you're caught in the gold flecks of her hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even realise I was doing it... I'll make a conscious effort to be at all future gatherings featuring the great Lily Potter," You chuckle and smirk and hope it comes off as carefree, and she smiles back.

"I should think so too, Mister..." She nudges you in the side with her elbow, then pauses and looks away, before adding, "I missed you."

And because there is nothing else to say you answer, "I missed you too. I'm sorry."

And because you're there, with her, up a tree and you think she's probably having another of her barmy moments, you laugh –and it's a most self-sorry laugh - when she says, "I think I love you, Teddy."

And you reply, because you have barmy moments too, "I wish."

"But you love Victoire, don't you," It's not a question.

"I'm supposed to, yeah."

Her hand's next to yours so you clasp it and rub your thumb over her knuckles.

"Paul owled me yesterday. Asking me to meet him..." She says suddenly and the tips of your ears burn red as your grip on her hand tightens just slightly.

Paul Finnegan.

The reason she'd turned up in France. They'd been together for the last two years of school and he was her first love and he'd broken her heart making him your number one enemy.

"And, you're going to?"

"I don't know. I think I might. See what he has to say..." But you know where this leads.

Because since they split up and she cried into your shoulder, you've done you're research; you've asked Lucy about what they were like together and you asked Hugo if he treated her right. Ginny told you, in confidence, that he wasn't exactly the dream son-in-law and Harry had said that he was glad it had ended before he had to get his oar in – which you doubt he would but the point was there. Rose told you about the amount of times he'd cheated – at least the times they knew about - and they'd split before and Louis told you about the other dozen times that rumours went flying and Finnegan managed to persuade her to _trust_ him.

So, why you do what you do next is obvious.

"You deserve better," And it's clumsy but its right and you wished you'd done it sooner.

Her lips are soft and tentative, and you know she's thinking the same as you – _this is wrong, this is wrong_ – but it feels so right and when she grasps your shirt in her hands to pull you just a bit closer you know she thinks that too.

"Being someone's bit on the side is 'better'?" She asks quietly with her forehead on yours.

"No..." You shake your head quickly, "But you deserve better than both of us and even when you find the right guy, you'll still deserve better because no ones ever going be good enough for you, Lily."

"Do you love Victoire?" She pulls away and eyes you solidly.

"Yes."

"Are you in love with Victoire?"

You eye her back and reply, "No."

"What if it's not about what I deserve, but what I want?"

"Depends on what you want..."

You're not sure you should hear this because it means that everything isn't just in your head anymore and that you have to make a decision and that means someone gets hurt and you don't want to hurt Vic or disappoint Harry and the Weasleys but you _can't_ hurt Lily and that is how you know that the decision is already made.

She doesn't say anything and you think she see's the turmoil on your face because she brushes a thumb to the creases in your forehead before kissing you again and you know you could do this all day.

"Teddy! Teddy, where've you gone, Gran's serving dinner!"

You somewhat growl in a response that Victoire won't hear and harbour a sheepish glance towards Lily, who, while blushing a beet red that you wonder if it is because of you, is locking you in a stare that you've only ever seen on her mother, a look that she's only ever reserved for Harry.

"You have until midnight."

"What?"

"Teddy, come on!"

You roll your eyes in impatience and shout in the general direction that you came from, "I'm coming!" Before looking back at the suddenly vulnerable looking woman in front of you, "What do you mean, midnight?"

"I will wait until midnight." She verifies and with a clench of your stomach you quickly understand but she continues anyway, "I'll be at home and if by midnight you are there with me or not I will know what choice you've made. Me or Vic?"

You watch as slips off your jacket, places it in the spot she once sat and gracefully slips back down the tree, and listen again as she shouts, "You're choice will be my choice, Teddy. You or _him_?"

And as her footsteps away from you get quieter, your choice is already made.

You follow her, not so gracefully, and are sat between Harry and Victoire at a far too small kitchen table within five minutes, glancing at Lily at the other end of the table who you know is now giving you a taste of your own medicine and avoiding you.

You think through your second portion of blueberry pie later, about what will come of you and everyone around you once they learn your decision. There will be anger and disappointment and you will probably end up with a black eye or two but, you realise when she does finally smile at you when she's clearing the table and takes your plate away with a slight brush against your hand, it won't matter because in the end it will all work out for the best.

You will be happy and so will she and in time so will everyone else.

But then...

But then that's easier said than done.

And fear is your worst enemy.

But what are you more scared off, hurting people you love or hurting her?

It's her, it's always her

**A.N. And I think I'll leave it there... although I'm not necessarily completely happy with it.**

**Thoughts, please?**

**Jessica.**


End file.
